Lynn Flewelling - Hidden Warrior

“I’m not so sure.”

“Trust the Lightbearer, Iya. The fact that she came through that battle in one piece is a good omen. And the fact that we’re both standing here with her, too.” He hugged her again. “By the Light, I’m glad to see you. When Eyoli sent word of the attack the other day—Well, it sounded bad.”

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon, either! Have you learned to fly?” she asked. “And what happened to your wrist? Were you hurt in the battle?”

He laughed. “No, I kept out of that. But I did make good use of that spell I showed you. Remember the one I lost my finger to?”

Iya raised a disapproving eyebrow. “The translocation? By the Light, you used it on yourself?”

“I’ve made some improvements since we last spoke. It was the only way to get to her in time.” He held up his broken wrist again. “Can’t say that I recommend it for general use just yet, but think of it, Iya! A hundred miles crossed in the blink of an eye.”

Iya shook her head. “I knew you’d be great, dear boy. I just had no idea how quickly you’d achieve it. I’m so proud of you—” She broke off with a sudden look of alarm. “Where is it? You haven’t let it out of your possession already?”

Arkoniel pulled back his cloak and showed her the battered old leather bag at his belt. “Here it is.”

“And there they are , and their necromancers,” Iya murmured, frowning back at Ero. “Keep away from them. Hang back if you must, or throw it through one of those black holes of yours, but don’t let it be taken!”

“I thought of that after I got here,” he admitted. “I could send it back. Wythnir is still—”

“No. Remember what Ranai told you. Only one Guardian can carry it, and that child is not the one. If the worst should come and I still live, send it to me.”

“And if you’re—gone?”

“Well, I guess we better keep an eye out for other successors, eh?” She sighed. “What it has to do with any of this, I don’t know, but at least we’ve come this far. I saw Tobin revealed, Arkoniel, that night in Ero. The others did, too. It must have been when the binding spell was broken. I saw her face as clearly as I see yours now. Did you and Lhel see her, too?”

“I did, but I don’t know about Lhel. I haven’t seen her since midwinter. She’s just—disappeared. There wasn’t time to look for her when I was at the keep yesterday, but Nari hadn’t seen her since we left for the mountains.”

“You’re worried for her.”

Arkoniel nodded. “She left in the dead of winter and took almost nothing with her. If she didn’t return to the keep or her oak—Well, perhaps she didn’t make it back at all. She had nowhere else to go except to her own people, and I don’t think she’d do that before Brother was free.”

“No, I’m sure she wouldn’t.”

“Perhaps she’ll come to Ero,” he said without much hope.

“Perhaps. What about Brother? Have you seen him?”

“Not since Tobin undid the binding. He appeared for a moment then. Have you?”

“A glimpse. He’s not finished with us yet, Arkoniel.” Her fingers were cold as she clasped his hand. “Be on your guard.”

Tobin’s attack had temporarily distracted the Plenimarans from their assault on the citadel.

Leaning wearily on the ramparts, Lutha and Nikides watched with mounting hope as Tobin’s small army decimated the Plenimaran force and drove it back behind the walls. Tobin’s banner was at the forefront of every charge.

Despite this initial defeat, the remaining Plenimaran host still held the city and the citadel. The remaining Palatine defenders were exhausted from pushing off scaling ladders and putting out fires.

The Plenimaran catapults had been moved up the hill two days earlier and rained a steady bombardment of stones and fire. Many of the outer villas and temples had been lost. The Companions’ former quarters at the Old Palace were an infirmary, filled with the wounded and the homeless.

The Plenimaran commander, Lord General Harkol, had demanded their surrender twice the day before and twice Korin had refused. They had water and food enough for an extended siege, but had long since exhausted their supply of arrows. They’d been reduced to tossing anything they could find down on the enemy’s heads—furniture, paving stones, chamber pots, logs cut from the trees of the Palatine gardens and the Grove of Dalna. They’d even thrown down the stone effigies from the royal tombs.

“I believe the queens would approve,” Chancellor Hylus had said dryly when he’d suggested it. “They gave their lives for Skala. I’m sure they would not begrudge a bit of stone.”

The old fellow must have been right, Lutha thought. They’d managed to crush several Plenimaran necromancers at a blow with Queen Markira.

Watching Tobin’s forces regroup that afternoon, Lutha shook his head. “You don’t believe that nonsense of Niryn’s, do you, Nik?”

“About Tobin claiming to be a girl?” Nikides rolled his eyes.

“No, I mean about him turning traitor and trying to take the throne.”

“I believe that even less, but Korin seems to. You saw him the other day. And I don’t like the way Niryn keeps him shut away every night, pouring wine down his throat and poison in his ear. That scares me more than that army down there.”

Tobin attacked twice again before nightfall, storming the walls and barricades. The Plenimaran line held, but the ground beyond was littered with their dead. Rain blew in off the sea just after sunset, and clouds sealed the sky.

As the last light faded, another host marched out of the gloom to the south. It was impossible to make out their banners but Nikides said it looked like knights and yeoman, probably from Ylani and the towns of the middle coast. There were at least two thousand, and suddenly the Plenimarans found themselves besieged in the burned waste they’d made between the harbor and the citadel. The forces around the citadel began to thin and the flickering movement of torches through the night showed that they were dividing themselves to fight on three fronts.

“I won’t do it!” Korin said, pacing back angrily around his private sitting room. The room stank of wine and fear.

Niryn glanced over at Chancellor Hylus. The old man sat by the fire, his mind filled with treason, but said nothing. Niryn’s hold over Korin was nearly complete and they both knew it.

Niryn had convinced the prince to leave his remaining Companions outside the door on guard—all but Caliel, presently glowering at Niryn in the shadows near the door.

It was nearly midnight. The storm had risen steadily since sunset. Rain and sleet lashed against the windows in angry gusts. The night was impenetrable except for the occasional flash of lightning.

“For Skala’s sake, Majesty, you must consider the possibility,”. Niryn urged as another gust of wind shook the windows. “This new force from the south is nothing but a peasant rabble! They won’t turn the tide, any more than Tobin’s army will. Not in this weather. They know they’re outnumbered and they’ve withdrawn. But the enemy sappers haven’t stopped at the Palatine gate. I can hear them when the wind drops! They could break through at any moment and what will we do? You have only a handful of warriors left.”

“The Plenimarans are caught in the same storm,” Caliel countered, voice trembling with thinly veiled anger. “Korin, you can’t just run away!”

“Again, you mean?” Korin shot back, giving his friend a bitter smile.

“That’s not what I said.”

Niryn was pleased to see some hint of division at last. “It would not be running away, Lord Caliel,” he said smoothly. “If the enemy breaches the gate, they will kill everyone they find, including our young king. They’ll drag his body through the streets and display his head as a trophy in Benshâl. The Overlord will wear the crown and Ghërilain’s Sword at their victory feast.”